


Just a Dream

by orphan_account



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst, Brainworm, Dream connections, F/M, Gen, I kind of got carried away XD, Kinda, Kunoichi April, Post Clash of the Mutanimals, Romance, Slight Supernatural Elements, Telepathy, dark!raph - Freeform, i dunno, originally for Raphril week
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-22 16:41:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6087034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The brainworm incident didn't leave Raphael as unscathed as they all had thought; now the family has to deal with the aftermath, with April aiding them in an odd way.</p><p>Or at least it would have been odd had they all been normal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wake Up

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize for the summary - normally, they're not so bad. XD  
> Disclaimer: I don't own the Ninja Turtles or April  
> Claimer: I own this version of Vernon and April's cousin. ;)

It wasn't the first time April had woken up crushed under two hundred plus pounds of turtle and turtle shell. It was however, the first time it happened in her bed, and it was also the first time she had felt so baffled and confused by it.

 

She shivered again as the sleeping turtle nuzzled her neck, sending waves of unfamiliar heat through her as she contemplated waking him for a moment before she felt him suddenly all but fly away from her as if he had been hugging a red-hot furnace instead, a strange strangled sound coming from his throat.

 

April remained still, her eyes closed as she pretended not to have noticed (but really, how could she not when suddenly gentle hands tugged her close and a warm body suddenly rolled halfway on to her with the crushing, flat weight of a plastron) for the sake of his all too great pride as he seemed to be having some sort of wheezing crisis over there. Yeesh, she thought briefly, so what if you're a cuddler. But she also struggled to remain calm, trying to ignore the electric dance of heat rushing over the skin where his face had rested, fitting perfectly between her collarbone and chin, remembering how his warm breath ticklishly caressed her throat.

 

Trying to distract herself from the pounding of her heart, she thought back to how he had ended up in her bed in the first place, pretending to groggily mumble and roll over onto her side.

 

_Yesterday Evening_

 

April huffed as she stormed out of her school, her feet hitting the wet pavement in heavy splats. She didn't really care that her shoes were getting wet, nor that New York's brand-new, EFP imposed curfew was soon to fall upon her, nor did she really care that Vernon, the annoying brat, was tagging after her, arms full of his trigonometry books and notebooks.

 

“You're the worst tutor I've ever had,” he complained, his long legs striding quickly to catch up to her. A few of the soldiers patrolling the streets sent them a passing glance as they marched along. She took a moment to glance at the dark skinned boy and his petulant expression before spinning on him.

 

“Vernon! Stop following me, I'm serious,” she pointed her finger directly in his face, cellphone still in hand, “I really do have a family emergency!”

 

“Yeah, right. Exactly how many family emergencies can you have in one week?”

 

Apparently a lot if your family happened to be ninjas. April groaned, digging the heels of her palms into her eyes. He attempted to cross his arms, but only succeeded in dropping half his books on the wet sidewalk. April growled, a nasty habit she picked up from spending a little too much time with Raphael and Casey, and pulled her jacket around her a little tighter to ward off the early autumn chill, leaving the African-American photographer behind as he dove down with a shrill gasp to try and save his notes.

 

Turning on her cellphone, she quickly texted her cousin for a little help, and to her relief, the younger girl quickly responded. Hopefully she would get here before Vernon drove April crazy. With the sharp eyed guy on her tail, she didn't want to risk trying to take a shortcut through the sewers, and heading straight home would just lead to him showing up doggedly at her door for his lessons everyday. Vernon was honestly one of the most annoying people she had ever come across.

 

It only took one more block of walking before a blue Subaru pulled up next to April, the girl inside waving. April sighed in relief and hopped into the passenger seat as quickly as possible, leaving a fuming Vernon behind.

 

“So, what's up with the, 'Hey, come rescue me' text, huh?” her cousin asked, popping her bubblemint gum as she drove. April sighed.

 

“It's a long story. I just needed to get him off my case. Hey, drop me off on this next street, will you?”

 

Her cousin deflated, running a hand through her coppery honey brown hair, “Oh. I see. I just thought, I don't know, that maybe you wanted to hang out or something. But I guess I should have known. I mean, curfew is in less than twenty minutes.”

 

April sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. She felt a little guilty to use her cousin and her car like this, but she really needed to get home right now. As her cousin sighed, April caught a whiff of the bubblemint chewing gum and, thinking of her current issue, decided she probably could use some later on.

 

“Can I have some of your chewing gum?” she asked. Her cousin perked up a bit.

 

“Yeah, sure! I have some in the glove compartment; go ahead and take the whole box, I have more at home.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“No problem,” her cousin grinned, and stopped the car, letting her out and admonishing her on getting home in time. April ignored her and stormed on.

 

Everything had slowly gotten harder since the turtles defeated the Kraang. Well, that wasn't entirely true. Things had gotten harder since the un-mind controlled Earth Protection Force army rolled in and set up camp in New York, with the intention of both flushing out any remaining Kraang and finding out why they were gone in the first place. Needless to say, with soldiers patrolling the streets and martial law being employed, it had gotten much harder for the turtles to roam as freely as they had before.

 

Which was partly why she was mad as heck that one of them was currently sitting on her roof as if it were impossible for him to be spotted by, oh, say, a helicopter flying over. Or _Google Earth_.

 

She stormed into her home, sent a furtive glance around to make sure her dad wasn't around to witness the embarrassing scene about to unfold, and then hurried upstairs to the roof. She was ready to swing the door to the roof open with a fury and drag the offending turtle into her house with some well placed whacks and verbal jabs, but all her plans of revenge were soon rendered useless when she did little more than turn the doorknob and have Raphael quite literally fall on top of her.

 

It was not romantic or cool like they made it look in anime and manga. It was painful and her head felt fuzzy as she realized that she had hit the floor _really_ hard this time. Raphael looked baffled and groggy, his face tilted upwards and sideways on her chest, making her feel both awkward and annoyed. April waited for exactly one microsecond for him to decide to move on his own, and then pounded both her fists on the sides of Raphael's shell to get him to get off.

 

“You're crushing my lungs!” she wheezed, and that finally got him moving. The short turtle heaved himself off of her, and April briefly wondered if he was pressing in weird places on purpose as he got up, before she dismissed the idea. She wouldn't put it past Mikey, who like a toddler, might not realize the implications of some kinds of actions, but Raphael? He was too self-aware, sometimes agonizingly so, to ever try that. Even in his current condition. He stood there in the doorway, pointing at her with his mouth half open as if ready to say something as she gasped, bringing sweet oxygen into her bruised lungs.

 

“Raph, what the shell!” she whisper-shouted, painfully aware of the still bright sky lighting him dramatically from behind. As if he were about to go save the world or something important instead of just pass out on her couch. Or her bed, she realized with a flush of frustration. If she was going to keep this hidden from her dad, Raphael would have to stay in her room.

 

Raphael frowned, his green eyes unusually distant and unfocused as he jerked his finger up and down, as if having an entire discourse in his head that he couldn't articulate, before he made a strange sound mostly consisting of a throaty groany-ish...thing, like he just expelled all the air out of his lungs like a dying thing, and threw his arms up in the air.

 

“'S'not my fault!” he slurred, before blinking and pouting in true Raph form, his thick lower lip jutted out as he kept glaring at some spot above April's head. April tried, she really did, to take him seriously and remember that she was going to be angry at him. She was a woman on a mission, a force of nature, the harbinger of vengeance upon idiot turtles, a furious, dark, serious, mature individual about to hammer sense into Raphael's head and be fiercely offended about it the whole time.

 

She burst out laughing, clasping her hands over her stomach. It was just so ridiculous. Besides Leonardo, Raphael was the most self-conscious, socially aware turtle on the group. He hated doing things that looked dumb, or that would make him look dumb, and he hated being pranked and he hated...well, just about anything that would make him look uncool. April sometimes wondered if it was because the human world called to him so much, it created a painful disjoint when he couldn't be a part of it so he tried his damnedest to be like people who were accepted, or if it was just because he was ridiculously proud.

 

As he glared harder, she decided it was probably the latter. He was truly one of the most ridiculously proud people she knew.

 

“S...It. Is not. Funny,” he articulated slowly, his eyes squinting as he manipulated his slow tongue. It might have been more convincing had he not been swaying and stumbling as he stood on perfectly even, still ground.

 

April laughed harder, her red hair bouncing as she sat up, wiping her eyes, “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, it's just...did you really get drunk with only half a beer?”

 

Raphael immediately was annoyed, but she noticed a tattle-tale twitch at the corner of his usually ramrod straight lips, and grinned wider as he pointed at her again.

 

“You...f..rr..whatever,” he gave up, unable to think of anything with his addled brain, “Jus' don't tell Leo. Or Sensei. And there was other stuffs too. Tasted like pee. 'ow do you p-people do that and drink it?”

 

April stood up and clamped a hand over her mouth, her shoulders shaking violently. She had never seen Raphael so...weird before. Angry, sure, playful, yeah, silly and ridiculous on the few times he let down his guard enough, yup. But rambling and weird and swaying on his feet – for a different reason than total exhaustion, which she had only seen on him once – was a brand new sight.

 

“Yeh, just keep giggle, you....giggling...uhm...” he looked genuinely perplexed that he couldn't come up with something to insult her with, which just made her laughter all the harder to contain. He looked like a little kid, all nonplussed and fussy about it.

 

“Ah...erghh....Banshee! You..what?”

 

April bit her lip and tiptoed past him, since he looked ready to fall over if she so much as breathed on him, so far back he was leaning, and closed the door to the outside world while shaking her head. She was supposed to be angry, she reminded herself. Raphael was being irresponsible and...

 

And what? He was lashing out like any normal teen would under the tremendous pressure being put on him and his brothers. April felt the lecture she had been fuming over on her way over die down when she looked at his genuinely confused expression. The only times she had seen such open emotion in him had been moments she would much rather forget sometimes.

 

With a sigh, she clapped a hand on his shoulder and shook him once, saying, “I'm letting you get away with this only because it's the first time, 'kay? After that, if this happens again I'm dragging you to a mutant Alcoholics Anonymous post-haste. Capiche?”

 

Raphael looked like he was about to bite the hand she had on his shoulder off and shove it in her mouth, mumbling in a way that made April think he really could not come up with a good comeback to annoy her with.

 

“Whatever.”

 

“Good boy!” she said with exaggerated enthusiasm, petting his head. Wow. Now he really looked like he was going to amputate her hand. Yeesh.

 

Getting down the stairs was less of an ordeal than she thought it would be. Mostly because Raphael actually had handles to hold on to to keep him upright, but still. Once they got to the living room, he threw himself unceremoniously onto the couch face-first and let out what April assumed was a really long winded groan of relief. She couldn't translate the weird sound as anything else.

 

“Get up,” she kicked his shell without a lick of sympathy, “If my dad finds you here like this, that's the end of me hanging out with you guys. He has enough trouble with Casey as it is.”

 

Raphael groaned, face still in the cushions, and grabbed her foot with that uncanny ninja ability all four turtles had, yanking her down. She fell half on his hard shell, and half on the coffee table, scowling, before grinning. She stood back up, took a split second to realize how childish this was and wondered what was wrong with her, before she jumped and landed butt-first on his shell. Raphael let out a wheezy yelp, letting out a string of sounds that were probably supposed to be curse words, but mostly sounded like angry gibberish.

 

“Up, up!” she urged him, and he promptly lifted himself on to his hands and knees, tilting sideways to knock her off onto the floor. April was ready for that and landed on her feet, spinning quickly and grabbing his arm.

 

“Come, you big, fat idiot! I'm not joking! You can sleep in my room, but not here,” she said between grunts as she tugged all two hundred and fifty plus pounds of him off the couch. He landed on the floor with a grunt and crossed his arms.

 

“I'm not fat,” he retorted, his eyes sharp and flashing. It would have been intimidating...if he had been looking at her face and not her boots. She leaned down to try and get closer to his line of sight.

 

“Raphael!” she yelled, finally having had enough, “My bed, _now!_ ”

 

Raphael sat up then with a jolt, a wolfish grin coming across his face that would have been scary had he not looked so boyish and innocent thanks to his inebriation. She wasn't sure why he was looking so adorable today. Shoot, April, supposed to be angry here. She was going to start laughing at him again.

 

“Well, thanks for the offer, but you ain't my type, carrot head,” he responded.

 

Of course, he had to ruin it. Fury erupted in her chest, as well as a deep blush over her face. April dearly wished she, like Anne of Green Gables, had a mini-chalkboard to smash over Raphael's head in a dramatic defense of her hair.

 

Then again, thinking of Gilbert's subsequent crush on Anne, maybe that wasn't the best approach.

 

“Oh, shut up. You know that's not what I meant.”

 

For some reason, his expression suddenly darkened and as April realized with a strange stinging in her cheeks how her bending down and his sitting up had put their faces smack-dab in front of each other with mere inches between them, he stood up and stormed off to her room. April was left a little baffled as to why he was suddenly upset, but batted the concern aside as she realized he was doing what she wanted him to.

 

April sighed, picking her backpack up from where she had dropped it on the floor in her rush to get upstairs and pulled out her cellphone.

 

**April:** _ Hey, Leo, can I keep Raph overnight? I rented the Rambo movies and G.I. Joe, so I thought we could have movie night. _

 

April hardly had any time to step inside the door to her room before Leonardo had sent an answer back.

 

**Leo:** _ Uhm...Sensei says it's okay. Do the rest of us come over too then? _

 

**April:** _ Well..its not because I dont want you guys over, but I think Raph needs a girl's night out. ;) _

 

**Leo:** _ Har har. If he has any problems, he can just talk to me. I mean, I'm nice. _

 

**April:** _ sure, you're nice. :P Just give me one night, Leo, I promise to return your precious baby in one piece, 'kay? _

 

**Leo:** _...Okay...? _

 

**Leo:** _ and what the heck do you mean by 'precious baby'? Keep him, if you want. Then I won't have to deal with his 'Sure, bossy' everytime I say something and eating the last piece of toast at breakfast that I called dibs on. _

 

**April:** _ Aww, someone is jealous. uwu don't worry, we love you too. _

 

**Leo:** _ wts _ **….** _ Okay...? T-T??? _

 

April snickered to herself, both at Leo's questionable use of emoticons and imagining Leo awkwardly trying to make sense of her, before just uncomfortably setting his phone and their conversation away somewhere he didn't have to think about it for a while. Her amusement died quickly however, when she caught sight of Raphael, curled up under her window with a look of absolute misery on his face.

 

April frowned, and walked into her room, wincing a bit at the disastrous state it was in and quickly picking up her dirty laundry and shoving it into a hamper in her closet before then looking at her bed and grimacing. Books, sweaters, clean clothes that needed to be folded, the wrappings for her hands for training and one of her tennies were scattered across her rumpled comforter. Her bed was more of a pile of things she used than a place to sleep.

 

Thankfully, it was a full sized bed, so she and Raphael should have no trouble sharing. She wasn't lying about having a movie night, though, the movies would have to be either one of her collection of Disney movies, Oblivion, or one of her and her dad's vast collection of documentaries. Happily, she had inherited an ancient TV from her father not too long ago, one of those shaped like boxes like the one in the lair, so it currently sat on her dresser, facing her bed.

 

“So, I got permission to keep you overnight, so you don't have to worry about your family waltzing in all of a sudden and trying to reclaim you while you still can't form a word right,” she informed him cheerily, a bit surprised by his lack of reaction, “Raphael? Are you okay?”

 

He was quiet for a long time, one of his hands rubbing his head as if it hurt, his green eyes distant as his internal struggles, usually so heavily shielded by anger and snark, danced across his face in painfully sharp relief.

 

“Why do you even stay with us, April?” he asked, his voice pitched oddly as he fought to not slur his words, “I mean.. you got your dad, the Kraang are gone so you can have like...a normal life.”

 

April listened, her throat tightening in a mixture of confusion, guilt, and insecurity. It didn't take much to realize that he still resented her for how she dealt with them mutating her dad, but it had been so long ago, almost a year now, that she didn't think he'd still be upset.

 

Her words came back with stinging force, “ _I'm going to be a normal girl from now on. No Kraang, no Foot clan, no ninjas and no mutant....no mutant turtles._ ”

 

April knew if she were to do it again, she would certainly get over it a lot faster. The turtles were her family, whether or not she had wanted to admit it at the time, and now that she knew that, as well as how quickly she could lose them, she wasn't willing to waste their precious time together by freezing them out of her life.

 

She stepped forward, wanting to say something to answer, but she was interrupted by the sound of the door being opened, keys being rattled and the tired thumping of feet on the floor. April quickly motioned for Raphael to remain quiet and hurried out of her room, greeting her dad. Kirby was panting, having gotten home just before curfew, and he huffed as he shuffled over to the kitchen.

 

“Should we order out?” he asked, realizing that neither of them had gotten dinner, before his mind caught up to him and he realized that with curfew, there was no way of getting food at this hour, “Nevermind. Does ramen sound good?”

 

April chuckled, “I've got leftover meatloaf and some pizza in the fridge if you want to warm it up.”

 

“Meatloaf?”

 

“Mikey and I had a date with a cookbook, for once.”

 

“...I think I'd better stick with ramen.”

 

 

Raphael sat quietly in the corner of April's room. He wasn't really sure if he could move even if he wanted to. With his chin propped up on his knees, he let his blurry vision sweep across the room as he tried to ignore the headache slowly coming back full force. The alcohol he had snagged from some Purple Dragons earlier that week was still buzzing around his veins, but it was slowly wearing away, leaving him back to his own miserable physical state.

 

As well as his firmly established sense of shame. Damn it. He probably reeked of alcohol. Horrible, smelly, awful stuff. It worked, though, dulling his headache and easing the dazed state he had been existing in since the whole brainworm incident.

 

Without realizing it, he had been slowly sliding sideways, until he was leaning against April's bed instead of the wall, his thick shoulder pinned between his heavy head and the bed. Turning his nose into the fabric, he sighed deeply.

 

Figures, he thought to himself, her bed smells like her shampoo.

 

Had he been in a better state, he would have pulled away, but currently, he was really, really miserable, embedded in a mess of insecurity, loneliness and isolation. It hadn't been intentional, but after coming back home, he had closed himself off slowly from his brothers, struggling to discern reality from the memories implanted by the brainworm that wriggled and twisted their way into his mind over time.

 

He had thought it would all be over after he passed through the insanely high fever that ripped through him, Slash and Rockwell after having their mind control removed. Donnie explained something really long about something called opiates and rejection and withdrawal, but to be honest, Raphael didn't listen. He was too busy trying not to pass out at the time as Leo worriedly took care of him.

 

Now, though, he kept getting ghosts of memories, memories he had known intimately while under Shredder's control, but lost once it was gone, memories that attacked him at night with ferocity that had him gasping when he woke up, feeling desperately at his throat to make sure the Leonardo in his dreams hadn't managed to slice it open, or frantically making sure he had all his fingers and that Donatello hadn't amputated them in his sleep, or that Mikey hadn't stabbed him in the heart.

 

The memories were bizarre, constructed to explain his hatred, a hatred foreign to him, a hatred he no longer had in his heart, but then he would close his eyes and fall into memories, and he hated his brothers, hated them like the traitors they were, remembering the Shredder's kindness to him when he rescued him from their twisted lies and hating himself for almost believing the memories.

 

Kindness that never happened. Evil things that were never done to him. Hatred he didn't know.

 

The only constant had strangely been April.

 

The April in his memories didn't seem to fit. She knew him, knew him well, but she would also spend time with Raphael's supposed enemies. April was like a puzzle piece that belonged to a different puzzle in his messed up, twisted memories, still snappy and tough, annoying and wonderful all at once. A bright splotch of sunlight in the darkness of the false memories.

 

Without realizing it, Raphael fell asleep, his nose in her sheets and a pained expression on his face. He suddenly was back in the memories that he knew weren't memories, and yet were so painfully familiar to him. He was soaring, one arm behind him for some reason, the other latching on to the edge of the building – wait, the skybridge that he was leaping toward. It took him the matter of a few seconds to get inside, at which point he smirked, bringing his other arm forward with a jerk.

 

The shriek behind him should have surprised him, but he now knew why he had carried April here on his back, and if it hadn't been for the strange, foggy quality of the world around him, he might have believed it was real.

 

April behind him stood up, fuming, dusting herself off, “Raph, what the shell!”

 

Raphael stared at his reflection in the glass windows of the abandoned skybridge, taking in the Shredder-like weapons, and the black and red that defined him as a Foot soldier. He stared at the scars he suffered at the hands of his brothers and Sensei and felt both the disbelief as well as the echoes of the agonizing anger and betrayal he suffered when they were given to him. They weren't real, and he knew that, but at the same time, like in most strange, unreasonable dreams, he completely believed it with all of his soul.

 

“April,” he spoke quietly, almost without knowing, “What are they like?”

 

The red-head walked up to the window, rubbing her sore rear as she leaned against the glass, staring out at the night city, “Who?”

 

“My brothers...” he forced the words out, fighting against what felt like reality. He didn't call them that anymore. He didn't call or think of Leo as _Leo_ , it was _Leonardo_ , harsh, cold, ruthless rival and competitor Leonardo, always vying for a way to manipulate and one-up Raphael, not the dork leader who fought so hard to keep them all safe, who walked up to him one day when he was at his lowest and humbly proved that _he saw Raphael,_ the Raphael beyond his anger and shields, the Raphael he hid fiercely and protectively for fear of being rejected once they saw him. Mikey wasn't _Mikey_ , the idiot goofball who wrapped him in a hug when Raphael was ready to punch him in the face, instantly forgiving and understanding the misdirected anger and quelling the fire that scorched him inside with one simple act, he was _Michelangelo_ , brutish, spoiled, smug, lying Michelangelo that was always finding ways to turn everyone against him, double crossing little brother. It was _Donatello_ , a cold, indifferent, uncaring, calculating enemy that quickly wiped him out not only with his experiments but his quick, cutting words that sliced Raphael in half trying to prove them wrong, not Donnie, the kid that knew too much about the world for his own good, the one mired in as much self-doubt and fear of rejection as Raphael, not Donnie who used to cry every time any of them got sick, so terrified he was that it would be something that Sensei wouldn't be able to fix this time, so terrified he was of being left alone.

 

They weren't his brothers. These memories ripped them away from him mercilessly, and he was left hollow in their absence, his mind controlled self trying desperately to emerge and wipe what remained of his brothers away from him.

 

April sighed, drawing his attention back to her, and tilted her head slightly. Raphael noticed that her hair was loose, cascading like a miniature cape around her shoulders. With a confidence he knew he didn't possess, he reached out and ran his fingers through the red locks, as the girl sighed. Her hair was impossibly soft, impossibly smooth.

 

“They're brave.”

 

“They're traitors,” he spat out automatically, before he bit his rebellious tongue. April continued as if he hadn't spoken.

 

“They're gentle.”

 

He fought, trying to remember Leo when they were kids, when they played Turtle Hunt in the sewers, but the memory faded until all he could remember was the sharp sting of Leonardo's katana's across his skin, the taunting, triumphant grin. _Hah, Raphael, look what the 'weakling' can do. Look Raphael, I'm better than you now._

 

“They're kind.”

 

Michelangelo's pouting, tearful, lying face crossed his mind's eye for a moment, before Master Splinter's staff swiftly sent Raphael flying across the dojo. Repeatedly. _No,_ Raphael fought, Mikey wouldn't...Mikey didn't...

 

“They love you.”

 

The sting of a needle under his skin and Donatello's cold brown eyes as Raphael trustingly sat in the chair, before his body began to burn and sting. _D-Donnie, it hurts!_ Donnie would stop, Raphael thought, desperately pulling at the fragmenting strings of what he thought was reality, but they were fast pulling away from him.

 

“This isn't real,” April concluded, speaking for him. The memories were so sharp, so painfully vivid. The betrayal, the abandonment, the sheer, aching loneliness echoed in him until they almost drowned everything out. Raphael felt his body shake and found himself speaking.

 

“It is,” the words slid out smoothly, like he had said them a thousand times. The blades on his right arm extended like second nature, and he had to fight to not pin April with them against the floor. His hatred and loneliness desperately wanted to end her, end the confusion in his life that she brought

 

She turned, her blue eyes blank, as she tilted her head. He wondered where the sparkle in them had gone, even as she placed a hand on his shoulder, making him painfully aware of her warmth against his cooler, green skin. She emanated warmth, drawing him in as he fought to remain still, taking a step closer, locking his senses on her. She was mesmerizing, a hopeless dream he would never be able to contemplate, much less try to hold on to, except here, maybe he could...Maybe he could let himself dare to dream what it would be like to let himself be entranced, let himself fall into her fiery smirk and rash personality and deep set insecurities that echoed faintly his own – fear of being recognized and rejected as not part of this world, fear of not knowing where they belonged, fear of themselves and everything outside of them. The hope of that, of no longer being alone in a world where he had no one, tempted him to let go, to hold on to this a little longer as he forgot what his brothers meant to him.

 

“It is,” he pleaded, needing to keep her here with him, needing to keep that impossible possibility with him. Northampton had opened his eyes to her, living in tight quarters together while trying to avoid the unbearable topics of grief and crushing guilt weighing on them....except that now the memories of Northampton were fast fading, replaced by memories of the city in chaos, of throwing Leonardo through the window himself during the invasion. Raphael remembered the dead weight of his brother ( _not his brother, not anymore_ ) as he heaved, felt the familiar texture of his plastron sliding under his fingers as he let go, the relief in the finality of it as he closed the door on his family.

 

April took another step closer, jarring him out of the memory, her face directly in front of his, staring intensely and yet blankly into his eyes as she asked, “Would I do this in real life?”

 

He had no time to ask her what, because she wrapped her arms around his neck and he found himself unable to breathe as she pressed a quick, gentle kiss to his lips that sent his heart racing and knees failing. The mere shock of it, the sudden depreciating reality that she was right, April would never kiss him in real life, she would never look at him like this, she would never see him as anything more than an annoying addition to her life brought every other reality he knew back to him with sharp, painful clarity

 

Donnie would never experiment on him, ever. Mikey would never back stab him. Leo would not be the one to kill him; Leo would be the one to die for him.

 

Gulping, Raphael pulled away from April, who smiled blankly and tilted her head, her job done, now only a quiet mirage of the reality that awaited him. With a sigh, Raphael pushed her away, and the world collapsed in on her as he did. He knew already that it would be back to taunt him, back to confuse him later.

 

He awoke with a jolt to April shaking him gently, and for a moment, he had to do a double-take, because her hair was loose like in his dream. Raphael reached up and ran his fingers through her hair, frowning when it felt nothing like in his dream. It was soft, yes, but the ends prickled against his skin, the strands standing out as he pinched it for a moment, not noticing the awkward blush on April's face.

 

“Raph, I'm excusing you because you're probably still a little drunk, but you're pulling my hair awful hard there.”

 

His eyes widened, and his hand snapped away. April smiled, her eyes sparkling and alive, before she tugged on his arm, motioning to the bed he was leaning against.

 

“C'mon tough guy. You don't expect to sleep on the floor, do you?”

 

“If I want to,” he snorted, standing up, and the regretting it as it sent his head spinning and his feet stumbling, “I'd do it.”

 

April snorted back, doing little more than bracing one foot behind his and pushing him toward the bed to unbalance him into falling flat on his back on her bed, “Scoot over, Mr. Independent. I get the left side, okay?”

 

He frowned and inspected the wall of pillows and sweaters between one side and the other. Grumbling, he climbed over it and settled in on the right side of the bed, which was facing the wall, wincing when something small and hard dug into his side. April plopped down on the bed, having changed into her pajamas, smelling like toothpaste and kiwi shampoo. Reaching over the divide, she held out a bottle of water.

 

“Drink this until you sober up. Sorry it took me so long to come back, but it takes Dad a while to wind down.”

 

Raphael suddenly felt uncomfortable, like a thief stealing into someone's home. Of course, as a ninja, that was probably supposed to be second nature, but still, being in Mr. O'Neil's home, in his daughter's room without his permission felt off somehow.

 

He shoved away the discomfort, grabbing the bottle from her and tugging the tip open with his teeth, letting the cool water flow in as he absentmindedly sucked. It was cool, not cold and not warm; Raphael wondered for a moment how she knew how he liked his water.

 

“What?”

 

Raphael jumped, turning to find her staring at him intently, blue eyes locked in on his green ones. She was laying facing the TV, remote control in her hand as it turned on and the DVD loaded. He blinked, let go of the bottle and frowned.

 

“What?” he echoed back. April turned on her side, facing him from across the pillow wall, head propped up on her arm, red hair cascading over her shoulder in a wet, tangled mess.

 

“You were mumbling around the bottle,” she answered, obviously amused.

 

“Oh. Nothing. It's fine,” he dismissed her interest, looking away from her pouting lips in discomfort. Even if it was a messed up dream thanks to the mind control worm, the kiss she...dream-April had given him was still running through his mind, his lips tingling as his heart beat fiercely. He hadn't thought about what it would do to him to share her bed; though it was hardly a new thing for them. Not only had their sleepovers often involved piling up in the dojo in a mess of blankets, sleeping bags and pillows, but Mikey and Leo had both had their moments of crashing at April's, and she had quickly proved how very much she trusted them by settling in right next to them without so much as batting an eyelid.

 

April made a face at him, but she seemed to respect him closing the subject for discussion. She didn't always; unlike Mikey and Donnie and even Leo to an extent, April often plowed on and pushed further than Raphael was comfortable with. Tonight, though, she settled for tossing him a small box of chewing gum.

 

“You stink,” she informed him. He jabbed his tongue out at her, the alcohol buzz almost all gone now. Despite being annoyed, he relented and threw two or three of the pellets into his mouth, frowning at the unfamiliar flavor.

 

“Gross,” he threw the box back at her face, watching her wrinkle her face and bat it away.

 

One of the things he liked about April was that she knew how to appreciate silence. Mikey never let there be a moment where words or sounds didn't come out of his mouth, Leonardo seemed to hate being completely silent when he sat with anyone unless he was watching a show, meditating or in stealth mode, and Donnie awkwardly tried to fill the silence with his babbling. Raphael, however, was content to just sit and be. He could think then, in long, uninterrupted streams as he contemplated stuff. Most the time it wasn't important stuff.

 

Like right now, as the movie glitched halfway through thanks to a scratch that most likely Mikey had given the DVD, he was thinking about the books on April's bookshelf, the titles obscured by the darkness of the room. He was not, at all, not one bit, thinking about April's currently bare shoulders as she shifted up, braced on her elbows as she stared at her toes, presumably lost in thought as well.

 

After a moment, April threw her head back, staring intently at the ceiling, her eyebrows furrowed, and lips twitching as if she were having an inner dialogue, and Raphael glanced at her briefly, his eyes jumping away from the strange position she had put her upper body in, her chest jutting out, her neck exposed.

 

“What is it?” she asked, lifting her head when she noticed his eyes continually glancing at her. Raphael struggled to find an answer, pinned under her gaze as his thoughts came to a screeching halt.

 

“Damn it.” No, no, no, no, no. Raphael, get ahold of yourself. That's April. Sister, friend, fellow ninja in training April. April who was tied to both Casey and Donnie's feelings.

 

April frowned in confusion, “Huh?”

 

Raphael internally cursed himself as his heart sped up, beating wildly against his chest. This brainworm thing was messing him up, that was all. He lik-he felt weird things about her now because his mind made up a twisted version of April that looked at him like he mattered to her. She was fake, this April wasn't. Stop.

 

“Nothing,” he grumbled, as he calmed down, both relieved and strangely disappointed, “I'm gonna sleep.”

 

April yawned, though she still looked at him strangely. He planted himself on his side, as far away from April and her wall of pillows as he could get, his knees and aching forehead brushing against the wall.

 

“Me too,” she said quietly, turning off the TV and plunging to room into darkness. The bed creaked as she adjusted herself, and Raphael breathed a sigh of relief. In the dark, he could pretend that he was back home, that it was Mikey breathing next to him and not April. He closed his eyes, and slowly fell.


	2. Sycamore Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Curiouser and Curiouser...

Raphael dreamt of Donatello and the betrayal that would fill his eyes if he knew, dreamt of his coldly furious glare, dancing between the reality and the false, running away from it all. Donnie could dream, he figured, but he didn't have that luxury, even as he began to panic when wherever he turned, there April was, waiting curiously for him, unaware of Donnie and Casey watching him from the shadows.

  


April dreamt of a maze. It took her a moment to recognize it, but it was the corn maze that her mother had taken her to once in Northampton during Thanksgiving. The corn field had been grown for no other purpose than this – Northampton didn't really produce much farm wise anymore – and it was constructed for both children and adults alike. April smiled at the memories, reaching out to touch the stalks with reverence.

  


Laughter surrounded her, and she felt someone brush their hand gently across her shoulders. Turning to try and find the person, she caught a glimpse of two women standing at the entrance of the corn maze, one tall, lean and dark haired, the other tall as well, though slightly broader and blonde. They seemed impossibly far from her, yet she could see their expressions as clear as day. She waved, and they turned as one into the maze.

  


Trustingly, for in a dream, everyone was trustworthy, April followed, running through the golden maze, keeping up only enough to catch glimpses of the women as they ran through the endless walls of cornstalks. Finally, hearing a rustle on the other side of the wall she was running along, she broke the unspoken rule of the dream, and just walked through it to the other side.

  


She found herself in the dojo, only it was open to the sky, stars dangling impossibly close like fireflies, nestling themselves in the tree. She expected to find Master Splinter, or Leonardo at least, but instead, emerging from behind the tree, were the two women.

  


They were beautiful, she knew that much, though not in the impossible, unattainable way of supermodels or actresses or queens. They smiled at her, reassuringly, as the blonde woman walked toward her, placing her hands on April's shoulders. April looked up, and knew that she knew the woman, but couldn't place her. She wanted desperately to ask, but for some reason...she knew that she couldn't speak. Not here. Not now.

  


She felt a gentle kiss on her forehead that touched something deep within her, something that made tears brim her eyes, and she knew suddenly, that this woman was trying to prepare her for something. For what, she didn't know, but it felt foreboding and overwhelming just to think of. The woman smiled and hugged her close, before she stepped away.

  


Now the black haired woman inspected her with a scrutiny April was unfamiliar with, before turning to her companion, her eyes speaking silently something April wasn't privy to. The taller woman turned back to her and shifted down into a fighting stance, beckoning April gently, letting her know it wasn't a fight borne of ill intent.

  


April blinked, but pulled out her tessen any way, leaping in to the fight with ferocity and calculation, somehow not surprised when she didn't manage to even come close to hitting the woman. The woman all but danced with her, arms flying, legs swinging to a tempo that April couldn't hear, couldn't sense. It irritated her slightly, but then she turned it to her advantage, trying to match the woman before breaking away from the flow and charging forward, wrapping her arms around the woman's waist and _trying_ to knock her to the floor.

  


However, the woman just stood there as if April were no more than a fussy child tugging on her pant leg. She placed her hands on April's shoulders and straightened her, looking pleased, signaling the end of the fight. April's tessen flew in from where April had thrown it, landing perfectly in the woman's waiting hand, who then held it close to her heart before returning it to April.

  


Again, April felt a tremor of fear as she realized that she was being prepared by this woman as well. The woman stepped back, nodding slowly as the blonde stood behind April proudly, her hands on her shoulders in a familiar yet not gesture.

  


The dark haired woman held out her hand, and April stared at it. She knew, somehow, in the strange way that dreams often were, that there was more to this than simply shaking a person's hand after a good fight, something deeper, something hidden. The stars stopped twinkling, burning brighter as they slowly edged in closer, and April felt the foreboding sense of something on the horizon again as her hand slowly lifted, almost of its own accord, to just inches above the woman's hand.

  


A deal, she felt. The woman was making some sort of deal with her, something to help her. April wanted to take her hand, but feared it at the same time. Lifting her gaze to the face of the woman behind her, she realized with a shock who she was, as well as who the woman in front of her was. Her hand fell into the other woman's grasp and April began to fall _up._ The deal was struck, permanently, she sensed, but she didn't care, because as she slipped out of the women's hands and up into the night sky, she felt an overwhelming sense of loss, as sharp and vivid as the mixture of pride, hope, sadness, wisdom and worry flashing through the ocean-blue and mahogany brown eyes of the two women now below her.

  


“Mom,” she whispered, before she closed her eyes and slipped seamlessly from that dream into the next.

  


She was soaring across the rooftops. She still struggled to keep up with the turtles, perpetually behind, but she was actually able to follow without really slowing them down. Feeling triumphant, yet not satisfied, she lifted her gaze to see how the turtles were doing it. To her surprise, one of them was missing, and as she inspected masks and faces, she quickly determined it was Raphael.

  


“Where's Raph?” she asked, but the group gave her no better answer than to shrug as they kept on leaping from building to building. April stopped, sensing that her mission was no longer with them, and glanced down at the alley below. Raphael stood there, staring at the wall in a strange manner. In the blink of an eye, April was down there with him, finding him staring in a giant, shattered mirror.

  


He hardly seemed to have noticed her, so engrossed was he in staring at himself in shattered bits. April reached out to touch him, poke him, make fun of his ego, when suddenly he spun and faced her, his green eyes accusing, and truly, deeply angry at her.

  


It had been a long time since April had been scared of Raphael. At first, when she was new to mutants and aliens and ninjas, she had been, if only because of his indifferent attitude and impressive bulk that he didn't hesitate to use to intimidate. But as she grew to know him, she slowly understood him to an extent and knew that he would never hurt her. And at Northampton, she had grown immune to his glaring thanks to being on the receiving end whenever she tried to force him out of the bathroom to eat at a table like a normal sentient being, or get him to take a bath himself in the downstairs bathroom.

  


But now she wasn't so sure she was as immune as she thought.

  


He turned and left, vanishing around the corner like a ghost, as April turned to stare in the mirror herself. Raphael's reflection was still there, only decked out in black, Shredder-like weapons strapped to his arms and scars that April didn't know crisscrossing his body like someone had decided to play Frankenstein with his skin. The Raphael in the mirror stared at her impassively, coldly curious as to how she could see him.

  


April clutched her tessen, shuddered and turned to follow the real Raphael.

  


It turned into an elusive game, tugging her in with the promise of childish fun despite Raphael's earlier glare. She ran and twisted through crowds, keeping pace with the shadow flashing in and out of sight, leaping across the rooftops, hurrying to get ahead of him, excitement rushing in her at the thought of actually catching him. But every time she found herself catching up, he would vanish around the corner, a ghost in a city too full of people, too full of shadows and corners and alleyways for her to be able to catch up.

  


She rushed and ran, climbing to the top of a building only to find he had clambered down, and for a brief moment, she wondered if he knew it was a game, if he was having as much fun as she was, but then the thought flew away from her, lost to the sky around her like ashes on the wind, and she was jumping down into an alley, down again into a manhole, feeling, all of a sudden, like Alice in Wonderland when she found herself soaring down a long tunnel that plummeted ever lower underground, falling finally into a garden, her palms digging into the soft, dark earth as she halted her fall. Rising again to her feet and finding herself in a place she had never seen, April took in her surroundings, surprised and pleased all at once.

  


It was like an enormous cave. She didn't know how else to describe it. The ground she had landed on rose behind her to meet the back wall made of what seemed to be both brick and untouched stone that then arched up and up for at the least fifty feet, closing over the wide area like a dome. An enormous terrarium. The ceiling of the dome had fallen in at some point, creating a gaping skylight in the cave, as well as a miniature hill complete with its own forest, and, as she squinted, a house settled right in the middle. It looked suspiciously like the house in Northampton, only with a decidedly Oriental flare to the roof and a look out on the very top.

  


A sycamore tree sat at the bottom, a swing swaying as if just abandoned, and around it were scattered items that she couldn't quite make out from this distance.

  


As April distractedly took this in, she felt, suddenly, Raphael behind her. He hadn't spoken, nor touched her, but she knew that he was there, and spun around, his name tumbling from her lips as she smiled widely, reaching out to finally catch him, noticing absently the torrent of emotions on his face as his voice filled her ears, her name a miserable sigh -

  


And then reality crashed in on her as she felt large hands heavily reach over her to pull her close, and his heavy body shift on to hers, her breath leaving her in a whoosh. April felt the dizzying confusion of being yanked out of her dream into real life coupled with the ticklish sensation of Raphael's face burrowing in between her chin and collarbone, trying not to jump, not to react.

  


And then he reacted for her, jumping away as if he were horrified. April was a little mortified; he hadn't, as she first thought, rolled over the pillow wall onto her side, but _she_ had rolled over to _his_ side. She wondered if she had done this before to Leo or Mikey, or if she had similarly rolled out of her sleeping bag in the lair and curled up next to Donnie. The thought of that had her feeling strangely shamed.

  


April tried to give Raph a chance to calm down, but he seemed to still be breathing hard and loud, and squinting her eyes open, she realized that he would have to get moving soon if he wanted to be home before it got light out. And she needed to get ready for school. She felt a flush of irritation at the thought of the long school day ahead of her; both her late night and her arduous dream had her feeling like she had had less sleep than she really had.

  


“Coffee,” she found herself mumbling, tensing when she realized she had said it out loud. Raphael seemed to freeze next to her, his breathing all but stopped. At this, she grew alarmed and sat up with a jerk, then, when he looked to be perfectly fine, albeit in a foul mood and curled up as if he were afraid (hah, Raphael, afraid) that she might pounce on him somehow.

  


She, deciding to play it off as some sort of sleep-deprivation induced thing, pointed at him, noticing the flicker of alarm, anger and embarrassment that flashed through his vibrant green eyes.

  


“I need coffee,” she said, half slurring her words, before she yawned and stretched, “And you look like you need it too.”

  


“I'm fine,” he whispered back, wincing as she shifted, making the whole bed move and jostling him around.

  


“Don't worry,” she assured him, “My dad sleeps like the dead until seven. Trust me, I tried waking him up.”

  


So he ended up in her kitchen, smelling of her dad's soap and their toothpaste after a quick shower to remove any remaining alcohol smell left lingering on him, shivering in the coolness of the early morning. Moisture still clung to his skin; April figured he must have been in a hurry to get out of her bathroom before her dad woke up and found him in there. She, meanwhile, had gotten them a healthy, well rounded breakfast.

  


“Pop-tarts?” Raphael mumbled, frowning at her as he held his head, “I see hospitality has died.”

  


“Shut up and eat your breakfast,” April responded, shoving the strawberry pop-tart toward him until he relented and bit into it. Raphael made a face at her and then quietly went about eating, trying to figure out what all he was going to do once he got back home, and if he would have to explain himself to his family members at all.

  


April sat in silence, picking little bites out of her own pop-tart as she multi-tasked, her algebra book settled in front of her and the essay she had written open on her laptop as she tried to focus on her upcoming school day...But as her silent house guest quietly tried to seem invisible, obviously feeling awkward and unwelcome, she sighed, thinking back to his words last night.

  


“ _Why do you even stay with us, April?” he asked, his voice pitched oddly as he fought to not slur his words, “I mean.. you got your dad, the Kraang are gone so you can have like...a normal life.”_

  


Now that she wasn't worrying about him or deliberately distracted with a movie, the words turned over and over in her mind, making her feel guilty. She had thought all that had been resolved, forgiven and forgotten, but apparently Raphael held grudges better than she had thought.

  


Sometimes, she honestly didn't know what to make of her own actions. April was used to being independent, the ruler of her own little kingdom, her own little world with Daddy, her and maybe a friend or two that quickly drifted away from her. April wasn't sure how exactly to handle being included in a family – a family even more isolated than she was, too! - and she didn't know how to be interdependent. She had tried, and thought she had succeeded for the most part; Mikey became the little brother she didn't know she had wanted so badly, Leonardo was a fellow dork and movie geek who could see right past her shields and masks, yet gently let her be as much as he could, supportive and quiet in his advice, more often given to her in the form of action than in words. Donnie was the boy she always wished she could have had as a brother. A fellow nerd with a love for science that helped them overcome the minor obstacles in their relationship, and otherwise someone with whom thoughts and ideas flowed in parallel lines; she and Donnie almost never disagreed.

  


And then Raph...Raph was a messy one, she had decided a long time ago. He stood apart from his brothers in a way that April hadn't really been able to understand until the invasion of New York. His walls were heavily fortified and damn near impenetrable, no matter what April had tried. Mikey and Donnie were open books, easy to read and understand, and Leonardo had opened the gates of his mental fortress of solitude for her willingly once he knew what she was like. But Raphael drew away, hiding behind snark and sarcasm until April almost believed that that was all there was to him.

  


Eventually, she gave up trying to seek a relationship with him as intimate as the ones she had with his brothers and decided that their occasional teasing and trying to understand him was enough. Raphael didn't want to open up, and April wasn't going to force him, knowing all too well how counterproductive that was.

  


She had figured that maybe she didn't mean as much to him as she did to his brothers, and while it felt a little stupid and maybe selfish, it had hurt to think so. It hurt a lot actually, but in retrospect, now, it had been a bit of a relief when she came back. If she hadn't meant as much to him as she did to his brothers, maybe he wouldn't subconsciously resent her like she occasionally found Leonardo and Donatello doing. They weren't trying to be cruel in any way, nor were they trying to punish her; it was simply that by leaving and shutting them out, she had ripped the family away from her and unwittingly shown them that to her they were no greater than their latest failure.

  


At the time, she hadn't understood that. She had been too wrapped up in anger and personal grief, too focused on her _own_ microcosm to realize what she was doing to them beyond the primal need to make them hurt too...so that she wouldn't be alone, perhaps. She hated that part of herself, but like the rash person she was, she had let it take over then.

  


But apparently that hadn't been the only thing she had misjudged. She had seen the hurt and resentment in Raphael's eyes last night, the feelings he never let her see, and it felt like a stab to her heart. She had caused that. April's anger had done that. She wanted desperately to fix it, to take that away and start over again, but she wasn't sure how.

  


“There, I ate. Happy?”

  


April jumped, having gotten so lost in her own thoughts that she had forgotten to finish her pop-tart. She looked at Raphael with a hint of bewilderment, but then as he deposited the plate in the sink, she stood up, striding over as he stopped moving, his shell bumping the counter briefly, his eyes asking her what she wanted.

  


She wanted to apologize, for everything. For underestimating who he was, for overestimating her own worth, for being the selfish person she was. For hurting his brothers. For hurting him. The churning emotions grew heavy in her chest and pressed against the tip of her tongue, growing slowly more urgent as Raphael began to look uncomfortable in the silence.

  


April let out a shaky breath, not knowing why she was so anxious to do this, and finally spoke, “Raphael, last night-”

  


His expression changed immediately, eyes widening in alarm as he shifted, his broad shoulders rolling backwards as if preparing for battle, looking distinctly uncomfortable as a flashes of emotions flickered across his green eyes, too quickly for April to discern before he had locked them all way.

  


“Hey, look, I'm not the one who rolled over your _Great Wall of Pillow_ s, okay?”

  


April blinked, startled at the sudden turn in the conversation, “ _Huh? ..._ Oh.”

  


And without her being able to do a single thing about it, a blush rose and stung on her cheeks; April cursed her light skin when the sight of it seemed to make Raphael look almost like he was ready to run. She shook her head vigorously.

  


“No! Not that! I meant...” she groaned slightly, feeling uncomfortable, all her bravery and impulse from a moment ago gone, speaking quietly, “What you said last night...It made me realize again just how stupid I was to leave you guys like that and-”

  


All of a sudden, Raphael's entire body language changed. He went from alarmed and ready to flee, to cold and distant, stiff as a board in front of her, “April, I was drunk. It doesn't matter what I said.”

  


The redhead was left more than a little baffled, unsure of what was going on in that dumb head of his right now. She furrowed her brow, and stood her ground.

  


“Of course it matters, Raph. Look, I know I hurt you-”

  


He scoffed. April felt her eyes widen in surprise and hurt. He _scoffed_ at her! Suddenly, April felt a lot less apologetic, a lot less diplomatic, and a whole lot more angry. Her ears were burning, a sure sign that her face was flushed with emotion right now, and as he crossed his arms, looking over her with his blocked off, angry eyes, she grit her teeth.

  


“I was trying to apologize, Raph,” she said, loudly and clearly, at this point not caring if her father woke up, “I'm acknowledging that what I did was wrong. I would appreciate it if you wouldn't act like that means nothing.”

  


His response once again threw her off, “Well, it doesn't. Look, I understand what was going through that pretty little head of yours, okay? I don't need your pity, your guilt, or your apology.”

  


With that, he breezed past her, leaving her with her mouth dangling open before he paused at the stairway, “Thanks for letting me stay.”

  


The words left his mouth in clipped notes, and had April been less frustrated and furious, she might have noticed that he had deflated in his stance, looking less like the impenetrable wall he was trying to be and more like a tired kid with too much on his shoulders, before he ascended, the quiet closing of the door to the roof the only indication that he was gone.

  


“Well, you're welcome!” she spat out once he was gone, angry, hurt and confused. She all but fell into her chair, gaping at the air as if it would take pity on her and give her an answer as to what had just happened. But the air remained silent to Raphael's secrets, and despite her abilities, April couldn't force it to help.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *makes weird noises as she debates whether or not to post* Aaahhhh, fine, let's do this. *steels herself and hits post* Please be good...or at least okay...


	3. Night Breezes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My word program keeps telling me that words I know are words don't exist. XP Excuse me, computer, hast thou read The Treasury of Sherlock Holmes, or Anne of Green Gables, or anything by Mark Twain? I know perplextion is a word, and no, I don't mean extirpation, thank you very much. :P XD I may not be spelling it right, but how can I if you don't help me? :(

Master Splinter took one look at him when he got home, and immediately looked disappointed. Raphael didn't know why, but he got that panicky, squeezing sensation in his stomach at the thought that maybe somehow Sensei had figured it out.

 

But then he was surprised when Master Splinter reached out to him, flinching away from the contact almost without noticing, before he felt guilty and relaxed, letting his father's hand get closer. This was a knee jerk reaction that had not originally been natural to Raphael. In fact, though it might have been hard to believe, as a really little kid, he was possibly even more affectionate than Mikey. Even Raphael could hardly remember it.

 

Apparently, though Master Splinter had originally allowed this, it wasn't until four year old Raphael started kissing his brothers' and father's mouths that he started to try and stop the behavior from getting too out of hand. Being the sensitive child that he had been, Raphael had responded to Master Splinter's gentle admonishments by shutting that part of himself away, hating the embarrassment and pain of rejection too much to try and relearn what he could and couldn't do.

 

Though now he was older and more self-aware and he knew better, his skin still crawled when his brothers touched him affectionately without warning, and the sensation of being watched hampered him from being able to properly hug his brothers without feeling trapped in their arms. The few times he could hug them was when relief or misery had overwhelmed him, and he _needed_ the reassurance, _needed_ the touch he had deprived himself of as a kid.

 

Funny, he realized with a jolt, he never felt trapped or watched like that with April.

 

However, Master Splinter's hand reached not for his shoulder or arm or shell, but to his nose, the pink thumb brushing against Raphael's left nostril and leaving him not only baffled, but distinctly uncomfortable, until he noticed the red smeared across his Sensei's thumb.

 

“Is that..-?”

 

“Blood,” Master Splinter confirmed, hints of worry lining his expression, as Raphael's eyes flew wide. He knew for a fact that he hadn't been hit in the face hard enough for a nosebleed any time recently, so it couldn't have been an old cut opening up as far as he knew. But before Raphael could begin to panic, Master Splinter reached out again, placing a hand on Raphael's shoulder this time.

 

“My son,” he said gently, “I realize all of this has been hard on you – all of you – but I need you to tell me if there has been anything in particular that has brought you stress.”

 

“Mikey,” Raphael answered without thinking, before his eyes widened and he bit his tongue, shaking his head as he came up blank. If anything, Leo was the one that needed this talk; not only did he have the added burden of leadership, he held that strange, unrelenting drive to save Karai that pressed him harder and harder. Or Donnie, who stressed and pushed himself further and further away as he tried to find answers for them. Raphael had no such extra weight, and if anything, was relatively carefree. _Relatively._

 

“I-uh, not that I can think of, Mas-”

 

Suddenly, without warning, he was back in the memories for a split second, and he jerked away from Master Splinter's touch, the warmth and heavy weight of his father too much, the sensation of sharp slaps that hurt more his heart than his skin ghosting over his cheeks. Raphael blinked, the moment gone, but Master Splinter looked suspicious, simply raising an eyebrow at him, pressing him more with his silence than he would have with his words. Raphael gulped, but held fast. He wasn't fully sure why...but he really didn't want to tell his family about what the brainworm had left behind. It had done such a job at taking their real flaws, their real edges and turning them into well honed weapons in his mind that it felt...unnaturally cruel to explain what went on in there to them.

 

He knew for a fact that Leo would be horribly offended. He would pretend not to be, but it would be a blow to his mental image of himself as a gentle leader and compassionate older brother if he knew how cruel and ruthless the Leonardo in Raphael's mind was, how perfection driven.

 

And besides, Donnie had run continual tests on him, in fear of the brainworm having reproduced like a parasite while in Raphael's body, but everything had come up clean; just to worry his family over his own, probably mental, issues in the face of the on-going battle right outside their door seemed very selfish.

 

Well...more selfish than Raphael was comfortable being, that was.

 

“So there is something,” Master Splinter stated quietly, and Raphael bit his lip, unable to answer either way.

 

“You're back!”

 

Raphael jumped, turning to find Donnie grinning at him as he emerged from his lab. Thank everything, Raphael thought, turning away from Master Splinter's uncomfortably sharp gaze.

 

“You look awful,” he responded matter-of-factly, noticing the dark bags under his brother's eyes and the tired slump of his shoulders. Donnie wrinkled his face in mock annoyance, crossing his arms with his empty coffee mug in one hand.

 

“Gee, thanks, you look quite peachy yourself, sunshine,” he answered dryly before saluting him and turning on his heel to to kitchen, “Hey, Mikey, I need coffee!”

 

Raphael glanced at Master Splinter, who hadn't moved or even breathed it seemed since Donnie appeared, and his father sighed silently, dismissing him to go and rejoin the family. Mikey all but flew out of the dojo, a disappointed Leonardo on his heels.

 

“D, you are way too addicted to this stuff,” Mikey chided, though he looked relieved, “And why do you always ask me to make it?”

 

Donnie huffed, “Well, forget it then. Resume your sparring.”

 

The orange banded turtle looked terrified as he glanced at Leo, and literally leapt over his brother to get into the kitchen, “Uh, never mind, it's a perfectly healthy habit! I heard coffee is good for you!”

 

“Raph!” Leo greeted, waving a katana, grinning, before looking a little baffled, “Hey, what's with April's weird text?”

 

“What weird text?” he asked back, before the mention of April made him glare at his brother. Leo glared right back, but looked a bit confused as to the reason why he was getting such a malicious look from his brother already.

 

“Uh, forget it then. Have you had breakfast?”

 

“Why, are you offering to make it? Because if you are, then yes, I had breakfast.”

 

“Actually, I was volunteering my sparring partner, but since you aren't interested,” the blue banded turtle shrugged, and had he been in a better mood, Raphael might have been able to appreciate the humor. At the mention of sparring, however, he decided he could work past his hangover; it would feel good to punch something – or someone – right now.

 

“Do you need a sparring partner?” he asked. Leo grinned, and Raphael held back the urge to laugh at him. Oh, if only he knew what he was walking into right now.

 

“Why, are you offering?”

 

It took them no time to get back into the dojo, and their weapons were drawn almost before they finished the customary bow. Raphael flew at Leonardo with a vengeance, and Leonardo grinned widely, easily sidestepping most of Raphael's attacks, landing a kick to his brother's midsection that sent him rolling.

 

Raphael grinned back, landing on his feet before charging forward. They sparred like that for a while, bickering with each other as they attacked, defended, counter attacked and blocked each other. Leo laughed at himself breathlessly as he managed to say something really ridiculous that was supposed to be heroic, knowing from Raphael's amused expression that it must have been pretty bad this time, before he was finally able to knock Raphael down, both his katanas on either side of his brother's neck, signaling that he had won.

 

“That was fun,” he said, breathless, energized, fully expecting Raphael to glare at him and demand a rematch...but instead of Raphael's mock anger, he found something much darker in his brother's eyes. Fear, deep and unmistakable, flashed across his brother's expression as his eyes flicked to the katana trapping him down, and Leonardo felt baffled at the reaction. It wasn't the first time he had pinned Raphael like this, and they had all long ago lost their fear of sharp things. Respect they still had, but not fear. And Leonardo would never hurt his brother. So where was this fear coming from?

 

“Get off,” Raphael choked out, and Leonardo immediately pulled his katana away, still standing over him, ready to reach down and pull him up, “Get _off!_ ”

 

“O-okay,” Leonardo stammered, pulling away as Raphael sat up and rubbed at his neck with a shudder. Though Raph hadn't yelled, the force in his voice had had more effect than if he had. Sheathing his katana and twitching forward for a moment, before deciding to remain still, he watched as Raphael stood up and rolled his shoulders, looking both confused and furious as he grabbed his fallen sai.

 

“Are you okay?” Leo asked, confused.

 

“I'm _fine,_ ” Raphael snapped, “You just caught me off guard.”

 

“Oh...” Leo felt strangely separated, suddenly, as if instead of a few feet, there were a hundred between him and his brother, split by a canyon in the middle. Trying to be diplomatic, he crossed his arms and bit his lip for a moment. “Do you want a rematch?”

 

“No,” was his only answer, as Raphael stormed out of the dojo, leaving a horribly confused and mildly irritated Leonardo behind.

 

 

o.o.o.o.o.o

 

April stormed through the rest of her day. Her dad took note of her bad mood and gently tried to soothe it a bit by making sure to baby her a little extra that morning before they left the apartment, squeezing her shoulder reassuringly and distracting her with goofy stories about his teenage years. It helped a little, until after meeting Casey at school, getting through the first half of the day only to be met with a pouty Vernon in the hallway.

 

“I lost my notes,” he complained, looking miserable and annoyed all at once. April narrowed her eyes at him for a moment, before sighing through her nose and nodding.

 

“I'm sorry,” she said, “I really did need to get home yesterday.”

 

Vernon didn't respond except to look mildly abated, before he pointed at his watch, “We still have some time before the next class starts; if you ask me, we should make up for last night before I get another D on my test tomorrow.”

 

Normally, April would appreciate having someone who actually wanted to learn – unlike Casey, whom she knew only came because his coach would have kicked him off the hockey team otherwise – but today was not a good day. She wasn't sure why Raphael's brusque brushing off of her attempt at an apology had offended her so, but it had. She had been _trying._ The frustration she felt at being shunted like that hadn't been overshadowed or pushed aside by any other emotions, so she was left to brood and fidget trying to figure out what she had done wrong.

 

April grabbed the trigonometry book and snapped it open, surprising Vernon as she flipped through the pages, “Alright, then, time for a pop quiz.”

 

“Wh-what? Here? Now?” he gestured to the hallway. April glanced pointedly at his note book and he scrambled to open it and find his pencil in his backpack as she proceeded to drill him in the middle of the hallway on ratios, angles, sine and cosine. Vernon was left more than a little overwhelmed and confused as he hurriedly scribbled and answered her in halting tones, and when she was done, she simply snapped the book shut, handed it back, and lifted her backpack onto her shoulder, walking off without looking back.

 

“Wait, but-”

 

“You'll get a B,” she interrupted, still walking away, “If you answer everything like you just did. Probably an A if you're not under pressure.”

 

Vernon blinked, looking at his messy, frantic scribbles with perplextion, not trusting her in the least, grumbling to himself, “Yeah, right.”

 

As he turned to hurry into his next class, the heel of his shoe kicked something sideways. Glancing down, he picked up a little wooden statuette; a ballerina, sitting with her arms around her knees, a pair of wing protruding from her back. It was small, like a keychain ornament, and Vernon turned it over in his hand, inspecting it. The knife work involved in carving it out seemed pretty crude to him, but it was pretty and unique nonetheless. He gasped when he realized that his class was going to start without him, bursting into a run with the little angel/ballerina tucked securely in his pocket.

 

It looked strangely like April.

 

o.o.o.o

 

“He must still be angry,” April explained, holding the phone to her ear with her shoulder as she pried up the lid to the manhole. Her cousin on the other side made a sound of disapproval.

 

“Your school sounds very...drama-filled. You have my envy.”

 

April rolled her eyes as she climbed down, “The only person who would say that is someone that has never lived through actual drama themselves.”

 

“Psht, please, I have plenty of drama in my life. Most of which involve my brother and me debating which sci-fi show is better; Fringe or the X-Files.”

 

“Well, you can't beat the classics.”

 

April, at least ever since Irma turned out to be a Kraang, and Kraang Sub-Prime at that, had had absolutely no female companionship, and with no mother to turn to, she had scrabbled at old connections, hoping that an old friendship might be rekindled. She needed a non-bonehead and/or shellhead to converse with.

 

But she had been surprised when she had bumped into her cousin while ladling soup, only four days after all human beings had been returned to New York, and after asking about her tattered clothes and the blood on her shirt, had spent an entire afternoon exchanging invasion survival stories. Her cousin had been one of the few who had been able to avoid being mutated, and, having been born with the exact same stubborn streak as April, hadn't relocated far when she escaped, staying just close enough to know to come back when she saw the flashes of light signaling the return of the real inhabitants of New York.

 

April in turn, told her an abridged and altered version of what happened to her, the turtles and Casey. She, Casey, and a few 'school friends' had managed to escape and camped out in Northampton (which brought a gleam of nostalgia to her cousin's eyes), heading out to check on New York every other week, never being able to get too close to the blockades until four days ago.

 

She, obviously, left out the parts with mutants and fighting, but it felt good to be able to talk about the ordeal with someone. Her cousin was warm and understanding, and had a sense of humor about her despite what she had gone through, and it was a relief after being surrounded by all the heavy, intense emotions both in Northampton and New York.

 

So now that she was at her wits end, didn't feel comfortable talking to her father about Raphael or Casey or Leo, Mikey and Donnie, she had called her cousin. It wasn't too hard to explain the basic events behind her current problem in general terms, and she was now hoping that perhaps her cousin would have some better advice for her than anything she had come up with herself so far.

 

Or at least just an ear to rant to.

 

“Well, April, I don't know. I'm usually on the other side of this equation; I'm the person who doesn't want to talk about what happened and wants to avoid it.”

 

“But why? Wouldn't you rather just face the problem and get it over with?” even as she said it, she flinched, thinking of Donnie and Casey. She shuffled her feet for a moment as she paused just outside the turnstiles of the lair. Normally she wouldn't have a problem trying to be understood, but...

 

“Well, normally, the problem has a lot attached. I have bad, really bad feelings towards the person, whether or not they deserve it, and if they don't deserve it, then I feel even worse and want to avoid it even more so I don't have to deal with the self-depreciation and bitterness. So I won't hurt them with how awful I am. And if they want to talk to me, ask what happened, why it happened, what we can do to avoid it in the future, I just end up closing up even more.”

 

April bit the inside of her cheek, “So what makes you open up?”

 

“Honestly? The-”

 

“April!” came a joyous shout from the lair, as Michelangelo flew over the turnstiles and wrapped April in a hug, accidentally knocking her T-phone out of her hand and sending it clattering over the floor. April blinked, and patted his back with a snort.

 

“You better rescue my phone before some opportunistic cockroach decides it wants it,” she said with a chuckle. Mikey looked bashfully chagrined as he laughed.

 

“Don't worry April, no cockroaches will steal your phone on my watch! Oh, by the way, you're just in time to train with us!” he said, diving to grab her T-phone as she walked through the turnstiles, glancing around, half expecting to find Raphael sitting in the TV pit, and a little disappointed when she didn't.

 

“Uh, hello?” Mikey inquired of her phone. April gasped, not having thought that Mikey would be so bold as to talk to her cousin.

 

But who was she kidding? This was Mikey.

 

She jumped and reached to grab the phone, but Mikey, grinning like it was a game, jumped out of reach, “Naw, she's off chasing some really cool dude right now. What? Oh, I'm Michelangelo, better known as Mikey, better known as a lover of pizza. Really? That's so cool, brah! What? No, brah as in bro, not...bra. Of course it's a thing, have you been living under a rock all your life? What, no way! I'm homeschooled too!”

 

“Mikey!” April seethed, cursing him and his lemur like abilities, “I won't buy you those donkey action figures you've been begging me for if you don't give that back!”

 

Mikey stuck his tongue out at April, and she threw her shoe at him.

 

“Mikey!”

 

Both April and Mikey jumped at the sound, turning to face Raphael who was emerging from his room with a deep scowl on his face.

 

“Oh, don't worry, that's just my annoying big brother. He's always bossing me around,” Michelangelo whispered into the phone, “Which means, I gotta run, bye!”

 

He tossed the phone to April and took off running, with Raphael not far behind. April couldn't help but feel she had been pointedly ignored by the older of the two, and sighed, lifting her phone to her ear.

 

“April, look. I'm by no means an expert in human relations, okay? I'm _homeschooled_ , I live in a virtual box.”

 

“What?” April asked, furrowing her brow, “Um, okay...”

 

“But, as I was saying, the thing my mom always tells me to just sit down and talk to a person that you're having trouble with. Trap them if you have to, just so they hear you out. It's what she does to me. Although I seriously think the only reason it works is because she's Mom, and Mom is boss.”

 

“What if they don't want to talk?”

 

“Well, their loss, I guess. But at least you said your bit, and hopefully they didn't misunderstand.”

 

“Oh, gee, that's so reassuring.”

 

“I know, right? I've gotta go, though; good luck on getting through to your friend.”

 

“Thanks,” April answered, before she sighed, “Hey, would you-”

 

But her cousin had already hung up on her, and Master Splinter had appeared – appeared because April had no clue when he came to the living room – and was in process of dragging both Raphael and Michelangelo to the dojo by their shells. April snickered and followed.

 

Training started out simply. Master Splinter levied upon all five of them a new kata that drew a lot of the skills and flexibility that he had been training April in recently, and as they all went through the motions, familiarizing themselves with the new movements, April stuck close to Leo, following his pace as he moved with precision and grace, glancing at Mikey with envy as he distractedly followed along perfectly. They practiced this, and added it to the growing group of movements that they were learning, moving on the katas they had been learning that month. Leo had once explained to her that the purpose of such repetition everyday was for the movements to become second nature – so that in battle, there wasn't even a split second of indecision as to whether an arm went up, down or forward, or if they were supposed to take a step back; their bodies would respond and move and counter effortlessly.

 

At least that was the theory. April knew enough to get by, but it constantly frustrated her that halfway through sparring there was always one moment where she found she _couldn't_ move, because she couldn't _think_ of what to do next. It was always the moment where Leonardo or Raphael were able to take her down – Donnie, attuned to her expressions, would pause just slightly in worry, and seeing him come to a halt gave her the jolt she needed to get moving, while Mikey would see the opening and use the almost imperceptible lull in their sparring to start jokingly trash talking her.

 

The sound of Master Splinter calling for them to stop jarred her out of her thoughts, and he pointed out some of the fatal flaws in many of their movements, making them do the ones they had messed up over a few more times before they understood where their problems lay.

 

“Better,” he said then, placing both hands on his jade staff, “Now you may each chose a sparring partner-”

 

At this, he looked meaningfully at Leonardo, who quickly stepped forward to chose his partner, but as April quickly discerned who exactly he was going for, she jumped to her feet, beating him to the goal, “I want Raphael as my sparring partner.”

 

Donnie let out a strange sound, and Leo looked confused and perhaps a little annoyed at her. She wasn't used to that, but she pushed on despite it, ignoring him and turning her pleading eyes on Master Splinter. He looked reluctant, glancing at Raphael, who was trying desperately to nonverbally communicate to him that he _didn't_ want April as a sparring partner if his life depended on it.

 

“May I ask why?” he finally said, stroking his beard. April felt an awkward sweat break over her skin, but she responded with determination.

 

“We have some unresolved issues.”

 

At this Master Splinter seemed to understand, a bemused sort of aggravation in his eyes as he looked again at Raphael. He knew his son well, and probably understood April's intentions – even though she was mostly just winging it and hoping it worked in her favor. She knew very well that the conversation she needed to have with him wasn't one that they could have while shouting at each other during sparring, but she was hoping maybe to bring them back to the playful camaraderie they had forged at the farmhouse as they trained together. And if all else failed, then at least she had the chance to hit him and relieve some of her pent up anger.

 

“What unresolved issues?” Donatello asked, glaring at his brother, who was trying hard to keep a blank expression as all eyes turned on him. April could only imagine what on earth was going on in his head right now. He was probably thinking over all the different ways he could make her suffer – April had this mental image of him dragging out all those weapons he kept in his room and chasing her down with them.

 

“Very well,” Master Splinter finally responded, giving Leonardo a gentle, placating glance.

 

“Mikey,” Leo said, clearly irritated. Donnie gulped, glancing at Master Splinter with apprehension, but Master Splinter simply nodded, not expecting him to participate today.

 

“Very well.”

 

April pulled out her tessen, eyeing Raphael as he stood across from her, sai clutched tightly in his hands. She expected some sort of trash talk, or threats, but to her surprise, he remained silent, furiously glaring at her as if he was wishing for her to drop dead where she stood.

 

She barely heard Master Splinter call for them to begin before Raphael was on her, making her have to throw herself to the side to avoid the blunt end of his sai meeting her face, a flush of cold washing over her as she realized just how close that had been. Raphael spun to follow her, and then it really began.

 

April knew that she was way, way, _waaayyyy_ out of her depth right now. Every movement she knew, he blocked, knocked away, or powered through. It felt vaguely like fighting a bull – all she could really do was dive out of the way at the last moment. Even though, as they were the only two who continued training at the farmhouse in the three months of waiting for Leo to wake up, she had gotten to know some of the habits he fell back on often and knew how to exploit them, Raphael had never really been angry at her when they fought. He had always held back to a certain extent, pushing her to her limit, but at the same time rarely fighting her at his full capacity. It was actually a little frightening to be fighting him like this, even in the security of the dojo.

 

And then that moment came. She froze halfway through, her insecurities flaring at the worst possible time as she found herself debating whether to counter attack or retreat, and by the time she made her decision, it was too late. She saw briefly the alarm in Raphael's eyes when he noticed that she wasn't moving before his fist made frighteningly solid contact on her cheek.

 

At first, she only felt the sensation of his fist and the pressure from how hard he had hit her, before she found herself falling backwards and hitting the floor, pain exploding from her cheek in a delayed reaction. Donnie was by her side almost instantly, but April pushed him away, rising to her feet. When her eyes met Raphael's, she saw them momentarily widen with surprise and guilt before he hardened them with anger.

 

Well, too bad. Now April was angry.

 

“I didn't tap out,” she protested when Donnie tried to pull her away, and with her tessen in hand, she motioned for Raphael to press on.

 

“But, April-”

 

“Donatello,” Master Splinter called gently, watching Raphael and April with sharp scrutiny, and Donnie reluctantly obeyed the unspoken command as Raphael charged again.

 

This time, though, something had shifted in him. April recognized it immediately. For some reason, some of the anger in him had gone out, and he was fighting more like he had at the farmhouse. April was finally able to land a solid hit, and actually engage a little more in sparring rather than strategic running away. Raphael managed to grab her, and twist her into a painful hold, to which she responded by bringing her knee sharply between his legs. Unfortunately, this seemed to hurt her more than him, because though he winced and his grip weakened, April felt a painful jolt explode across her knee as it made hard contact with his plastron and shell.

 

“Freaking shell,” she exploded as she ripped out of his hold, twisting her wrist in the process. She rolled and remained crouched down, frozen again in indecision, and as she looked up, she knew that Raphael had seen it. A wicked grin flashed across his features, the first since they began sparring, and April frantically tried to get herself moving again as he rushed at her.

 

But then he did something truly odd. Instead of pinning her down, or putting her into another hold, he _released_ the sai in his hand, bringing his arm upwards in an odd motion, his fist passing just in front of her face. For a moment, he froze, staring at his arm in confusion as if something was missing, and April thought she heard Master Splinter speak, but then she realized the opening she had been given, and took it.

 

She kicked, swinging high and hitting his shoulder, knocking him sideways – which should not have been that easy, considering each of these turtles were like stone whenever she tried to knock them down – and then scrambled to pin him down.

 

“ _Yame_!”

 

April pulled away from Raphael as he struggled to his feet, looking strangely dazed and confused as he did so. She didn't miss the tremor that ran through him when he looked at Splinter before the fear – fear? Here? April had seen deep respect and _mild_ fear when they looked at Splinter, but this went beyond the kind of fear a child held for their parent – suddenly vanished, leaving chagrin in its place.

 

“What was that, Raphael?” Master Splinter asked. Raphael looked baffled for a moment.

 

“What was what?”

 

“You had the opportunity to take April down, but instead you missed her entirely.”

 

The fact that Raphael seemed confused about this made April briefly wonder if she had knocked him down a little harder than she felt she had.

 

“Oh,” he finally said, though the understanding that came to his expression seemed false, “I...thought she was closer...”

 

He said this more like a question, as if unsure of his answer, and Master Splinter stared him down. Raphael bit his lip and April suddenly felt that there was some sort of battle of wills happening that she was not privy to. Everyone else in the room seemed to hold their breath as well, before Raphael finally looked away.

 

Master Splinter sighed, before turning to April. At the break in the tension, Donatello immediately ran to her side.

 

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

 

“I'm fine,” she answered automatically, before Master Splinter reached out, lifting the wrist she had twisted. She let out an involuntary yelp, and he raised an eyebrow at her.

 

“You don't seem very 'fine'. I'm sure Mr. O'Neil wouldn't be pleased to have us send you home in this condition.”

 

Donatello glared daggers at Raphael, who was busy retrieving his sai from the ground, holding them with an awkward unfamiliarity for a moment before sheathing them.

 

“C'mon, April, let's get you fixed up.”

 

“Hold on, Donatello,” Master Splinter stopped him from leading her away, “I realize that you want to help her, but I believe Raphael should be the one to care for the damage he caused.”

 

Both Donnie and Raphael gasped at this, “But Sensei, Raph can't possibly know how to bandage April up.”

 

Raphael was making all sorts of insulted expressions at that.

 

“I mean...” he gestured awkwardly between himself and Raphael, “I've had more experience.”

 

“Even so,” Master Splinter said, glancing sharply at Raphael, “And once he is done, I expect him to come back to the dojo. Alone.”

 

The last word he directed at his other three sons, as April glanced at Raphael, who was eyeing her in apprehension, before he let out a heavy sigh and stormed over, leading her off to the kitchen. She followed, wincing slightly at the pain in her knee – that was going to bruise, badly – and holding her wrist delicately. Raphael dragged one of the chairs out for her with his foot, pulling the first aid kit out from under the table. He slammed it down on the tabletop, before storming over to the fridge and pulling out the ice pack they kept handy.

 

“Some bedside manners you've got,” April muttered from behind him. He sent her a glare before he had to look away from her face, the bruise on her cheek a deep red mark on her skin. Guilt squirmed like a snake in his chest, and he responded in the only way he knew how.

 

“Hey, I wouldn't be in this mess if you had tapped out,” he said, indicating her wrist. April tugged her mid-calf pants up to reveal a slowly darkening mark on her knee, wincing as she did.

 

“Also your fault,” he defended, glaring as he debated between putting the ice pack on her bruised cheek or her bruised knee, as he noticed the marks of the edges of his plastron and shell were painfully distinct and he sighed, deciding to press the bag on her cheek instead, “You should have tapped out.”

 

A mixture of guilt and annoyance flooded through him as her blue eyes met his, communicating without a single word just how ridiculous it was of him to expect that from her. April was just as ridiculously stubborn and competitive as he was; she wasn't going to tap out unless she truly felt there was no way out.

 

“Hold it,” he ordered her, and she complied, as he grabbed her wrist to inspect it. April tensed, as if prepared for being handled roughly, but to her surprise, he was gentle, his fingers ghosting softly over her skin as he turned her hand over, moving it a bit and freezing when she gasped. He looked up at her and glared again, and he didn't miss the responding fury that momentarily flashed to life in her blue eyes, before turning into a more weary look. She sighed, and he indicated for her to move the ice pack down to her knee.

 

“Raph,” she said as she moved it, wincing when it made contact, her voice quiet, “Listen. About this morning-”

 

His eyes jumped up for a moment, and he felt a conflicting rush of emotions race through him like a storm, “I told you to forget about it.”

 

“Well, I can't,” she snapped, as his hands got to work massaging the pinched nerve in her wrist back into place; she hadn't sprained it, apparently, “And I still don't understand why you're all up in arms because I want to apologize.”

 

She had known that she had hurt Raphael. That much was obvious. What she couldn't understand was why it had hurt him so, and why hadn't she seen it before? She would have expected him to be the kind of person who would be extremely upfront about his feelings, especially negative ones, but not only had he hidden this from her for an entire year – almost six months of which they spent isolated in Northampton – but he had also been the one turtle to defend her decision at the time. _Let her go, man. Give her some space._ Leonardo and Mikey had both seemed disappointed and hurt, and Donnie had been devastated, but Raphael had been the only one to nod at her in understanding when she walked – or better said, ran – away. He had been the only one that wasn't awkward around her after she returned, and the only one to never bring it up again.

 

Raphael seethed inside, working away at her wrist. Did April really not understand that he didn't want to talk about it? A part of him wanted to retaliate by telling her that he was never coming back to her home when he was drunk again, but he realized quickly that that would just cause a whole different argument. Besides, he wasn't planning on doing any more underage drinking again. It was bad enough the first time.

 

“I don't understand why you don't just drop it,” he responded, his leg jumping up and down as he focused on her wrist, expending the furious energy building up in him.

 

“Why should I?” she challenged, “What is it that hur... _annoyed_ you so much that you won't even let me apologize?”

 

“First, because you don't _need_ to,” Raphael snapped, his entire body tense, as he let go of her hand, looking at her pointedly, “And secondly...You really don't know?”

 

April looked just about done with him, as if she were about to walk out the door and not look back, “Damn it, Raph, maybe I can sense people and emotions, but I'm not a mind reader! I'm only-”

 

- _human._ She didn't say it, cutting off near the end, but realization seemed to dawn on her in shock, and, angry that she had figured it out so damn quickly, he went back to work on her wrist, trying to hide the tremors in his hands as he pressed and squeezed on her tiny little wrist.

 

The contrast between her hand, dainty, soft and pale – he remembered briefly about the boy she had told him about, the one who said she had man hands, and the insecurity she felt about her hands afterward, and nearly scoffed; if ever there was a feminine hand, it was April's – and his hands, huge, brutish, green and calloused, had been shoving itself into his face since the moment April had walked into their lives. He had never, ever, once been able to forget the sharp division between her and his family, even as he heard Donnie occasionally mention that when he was with her, he forgot that he was different, or Mikey's happy claims that April made him feel normal.

 

The only time he had come close was late one night in the farmhouse, listening to her read to a comatose Leo as Raphael whittled away at a piece of wood, trying to avoid the nightmares and insomnia sure to plague him once he left his post to sleep. April had paused to yawn, and Raphael had met her gaze, feeling deeply grateful for her mostly quiet company – she didn't expect responses or answers from him that he couldn't give – and if it hadn't been for seeing her arm wrapped around the back of the tub, supporting Leo's head up and juxtaposing the stark differences, he might have forgotten.

 

Maybe if she hadn't left before...

 

When April had turned heel and _run_ away from them, run away from the mess they had made and what they had done to her father, Raphael couldn't help but understand. Had it been him in her place, and Sensei in Mr. O'Neil's, Raphael would have done – said – so much worse, and he knew that the last thing she needed was for any one of them to try and guilt her into coming back. He agreed with her about the dangers it exposed her and her father to, and he agreed with her choice.

 

The problem lay in the fact that he knewtoo well what must have been going through her head. He and his brothers were not worth the trouble, not worth the danger, not worth forgiving. They were, after all, just mutants. What did they have to offer her that she couldn't find topside, with other humans and normal people? And despite all of his understanding and all of his agreement with her, he couldn't stand the thought of her thinking of them like that, after all they sacrificed for her, after all Donnie suffered through as he fell in love with her, after seeing the special tenderness that Master Splinter treated her with when Raphael, Michelangelo, Donatello and Leonardo didn't seem to even come close to eliciting the same response.

 

But then he would cycle back to the beginning – they could hardly guilt April into staying with them because of all they had given her. Raphael was hardly selfless, but he knew when selfishness began to cross the line.

 

April remained quiet, as if trying to process his reaction, or rethinking her response in terms of her Kraang DNA, and Raphael suddenly felt tired. Perhaps she had figured out what had bothered him so much, but certainly she wouldn't be able to understand it – she would probably even resent him for only being able to see _what_ she was most the time, when she had obviously learned to see _who_ he and his brothers were.

 

And that dug deeper into his heart with venomous guilt, because he knew better than to see her only as that, and he knew better than to judge her for that, but his emotions, emotions he didn't understand, pushed him to resent her anyway. And he hated it – hated to have been made to face it again, hated that it was there in the first place. He hated that the fact that he cared enough about her that it hurt him so much when he had looked at her last night. It had hurt so deeply that he couldn't help but ask why she was still with them. Because he still couldn't understand that.

 

April let out a shaky breath, and it jarred Raphael out of his cycling thoughts. Remembering what he had been doing, he gently picked April's hand up again, ready to start wrapping the wrist when it twisted around, grasping tightly to his much larger one. He jumped, eyes flying up to meet hers, filled with confusion when what met his gaze was a deep riptide of emotions that he _recognized_ , albeit in different forms, emotions that echoed his own uncomfortably well.

 

April moved forward then, before Raphael could respond, and wrapped her arms around him, effortlessly silencing all the turmoil in his mind as he froze under her touch.

 

“Okay,” she said, nodding against his neck, “I won't push you anymore.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The conversation April had with her cousin was actually much longer and much more cyclical before - I ended up cutting it all out and rewriting the whole section to fit the flow a little better. ;) I hope you enjoyed! I'll be over there - spazzing out because SetoAngel01 commented on my story! 8D *throws confetti in the air and does happy dance*


	4. Dreams Come Slow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Splinter tries to get answers...

 

Raphael felt like swearing. He just couldn't catch a break today.

 

Master Splinter was, to all appearances, meditating when Raphael dragged himself to the dojo, exhausted and more than a little terrified at just how much he had just revealed to April about himself. These were things not even his brothers knew, not even Master Splinter – things that, like the sharp, ruthless thoughts he often had about his brothers that the brainworm had taken and twisted, he had never shared with anyone before.

 

He felt more than a little sick, even with her gentle and accepting reaction. Despite his unwelcome resentment, he really did – for lack of a better word – treasure April and her friendship. He hadn't realized how much until he realized how much everyone relied on her at the farmhouse, until he was able to see and appreciate how strong she actually was. That strength was probably why-

 

Wait, no. Now was not the time to think about April. Raphael made his way to his Sensei as quietly as possible, _almost_ curbing the jolt of surprise that shot through him when Master Splinter immediately opened his eyes once Raphael was directly in front of him.

 

“Geez, Master Splinter,” he said, startled. Master Splinter raised a wiry white eyebrow, and Raphael quickly amended, “I-I mean, uh, I'm here, Sensei.”

 

“Sit,” his father said calmly, and Raphael began to kneel down, before thinking better of it, and mimicking Master Splinter's position instead, “Now...will you tell me what is going on?”

 

Raphael looked away, feeling uncomfortable, but as he thought to both the moment with Leo where he felt a choking, overwhelming fear of his brother, and the momentary black out he had while sparring with April – and feeling the terror that had come with it – he realized he no longer had a choice in whether or not he wanted to tell. The effects of the brainworm were leaking slowly over from his sleep into real life, and that posed a danger to his family. Ashamed that he wasn't able to control it, he grit his teeth and clenched his hands over his knees.

 

“Uhm...well,” how did he start? Raphael took a deep breath and faced Master Splinter's steady gaze, “You remember the whole mind control thing...”

 

He half expected Master Splinter to assume he knew already what was wrong and try and lever off whatever was 'wrong' with Raphael with a metaphorical crowbar made of a wise saying or something equally unfitting to what Raphael actually needed.

 

 _'What do I need?'_ he wondered briefly.

 

But Master Splinter remained silent, probing at him with his steady gaze. Raphael didn't like being on the receiving end of such a look. Once he had wished, _ached_ , for his father to look at him and _see him_ , every crooked bit of him, and accept him no matter what, but now that he was older, now that he knew that the crooked angles and dark alleys would never be accepted by anyone, the last thing he wanted was that. Raphael suddenly wanted to run, run from his father's soul searching eyes, but he remained still, looking down instead

 

“Uhm...while I was...y'know...they...it gave me this...fake version of...everything that I know...After it was gone, the fake stuff went away, but then....”

 

Vaguely he noticed that he was shaking. Trembling. He lifted his eyes to meet Master Splinter's again, feeling naked and exposed under his father's eyes. He hated it. He didn't want Sensei to see that part of him, the ugly, secret part of him hidden away, the part that had been curious about the memories, the part that probed and opened the door for them to come in.

 

Master Splinter's expression changed a little, though his soul piercing gaze remained. Go on, he said, wordlessly, soundlessly.

 

I let them in, Raphael answered, though not out loud, just to himself, the memories, because I was curious.

 

Master Splinter stared on intently. Raphael felt his heart start to pound against his shell.

 

It's my fault, he said, without speaking, but knowing the disappointment that would come when he said these things out loud, he was frozen. Pined under Master Splinter's eyes, pined under the gaze of the one person whom Raphael had fought all his life to try and bring pride into his eyes, only to fail, time and time again, he suddenly realized that he couldn't do it.

 

Funny how easy it had been to open to April, how inevitable, how what he felt had fallen out of him despite trying to hold it back, and how impossible it was proving to do the same for his father. Maybe it mattered more now. Raphael didn't know, and he didn't plan to find out, because he couldn't stay there another minute. He had to go. He had to run. Too bad about getting help – Raphael was already gone, running, running as fast as he could from Master Splinter's golden eyes, even though his muscles failed to respond. He leaned forward tensely, panting, hands clenched so tightly on his knee-pads that the knuckles were turning white.

 

His cheeks burned. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't face the fact that the monsters in his head weren't constructs made by Stockman or Shredder, but by his own twisted view of his family. He couldn't face the fact that he had made them, just as surely as he had made the murderous version of Slash, just as surely as he had flinched from his father's touch. He couldn't face the hurt in their eyes when they found out.

 

He could vaguely see Master Splinter speaking, but the words didn't reach him, not until Master Splinter had reached forward and was ready to place a hand on his shoulder.

 

“No!” Raphael screamed suddenly, “ _I'm not going to tell you._ ”

 

He didn't just think the words, didn't just say them, he screamed them at the top of his voice, as if he were facing his worst enemy instead of his father. He couldn't hold back the words that escaped him, couldn't hold back his voice.

 

“ _I was just curious –_ ” This was one of those nightmares, not the new ones, the old ones, where he would call desperately for help that never came.

 

He vaguely thought he heard someone ask where he was, and he wanted to answer in confusion that he hadn't moved from his spot, but then black claimed his vision and he slipped away.

 

* * *

 

 

April sat heavily in the bus with a sigh, pulling her backpack to her chest as if it could ward away the turmoil she felt. She really hadn't expected what she had faced in Raphael, and in a way, it almost scared her when she recognized the confusion and self-loathing in his eyes.

 

She had realized then that Raphael really _didn't_ need her apology, because the person he needed to forgive wasn't her. It was himself. And even then it wasn't as simple as all that.

 

April had, when she was younger, somehow come to think her mother had left because of her. She couldn't remember whether it had been something the children at school said, or if she had come to the conclusion all on her own, but the depreciating thought had found itself a home in her heart, and the more she grew, the more the thought solidified itself in her mind, until she thought it a fact. April had battled with anger and self-pity, self-loathing and misery in turns. She had hated herself for whatever it was about her that had made her mother leave her, and she hated her mother for leaving her in the first place.

 

It wasn't until Kirby had found out what she was going through and assured her that it really wasn't her fault that April had been able to overcome that. And while April recognized that her childhood internal battle was probably nothing compared to whatever was going on with Raphael, she also knew of the confusion, the hurt and anger that he had shown her – perhaps not as intimately as he did, but intimately enough to hurt deep inside at the thought of him going through that. Intimately enough to know that she couldn't help.

 

April found herself wishing she could anyway.

 

She was jarred out of her saddening thoughts as the bus stopped, and she hurried off, swinging her backpack on as she hurried home, curfew nipping at her heels again. Up the stairs she went, closing the door gently as she could, resting her forehead against it for a moment, letting the tension of the day and the aches and bruises from her sparring session with Raphael and the deeper, less physical aches and hurts of her talk with him sink into her for a moment before letting it all fall away.

 

As much as she could, anyway.

 

Her father was already home, she discovered as she turned into the kitchen, and trying his hand at cooking. Had she been in a better mood, she would have joked about how horrifying that was and that she would rather eat in the sewers than taste his concoction, but today wasn't a day for that. Instead, she tossed her backpack on to the couch in the living room and made her way into the kitchen, smiling at her father in his apron, stirring pots of food and humming to himself.

 

She could almost trick herself into seeing her mother there instead, but the thought of her mother put a sour taste in her mouth and she hated the Kraang all the more for ruining that special image of Grace O'Neil smiling at her. In her mind, it was now warped into that grotesque face of the monster hidden under the farmhouse in Northampton.

 

But then as she stepped into the warm yellow light of the kitchen, she remembered her dream the night before. Her dream where she placed her hand in the tall, dark haired woman's hand, feeling her dark, angular eyes on her, sensed the smile of the blonde woman behind her, her warm gentle hands on April's shoulders for a moment before she slipped and was pulled upwards, staring down to finally realize who she had been with.

 

Her mother.

 

And Tang Shen.

 

The combination, so natural in her dream, and so easy to leave behind once she woke and focused on bigger issues in her life, caused her to pause in confusion now. Why had she dreamt of Tang Shen, the picture...well, the woman in the picture on Splinter's little shrine? Tang Shen to her was as distant, unreal and unconnected to her as actors and actresses that ran around on TV screens, untouchable, a fairy tale, Splinter's departed wife from before his mutation.

 

So, pushing the confusion away, April reached out for what she could touch, what was real to her, what grounded her and had made her; her foundation and only refuge before the Kraang made itself known in her life. With a heavy sigh, she wrapped her arms around her father's chest, feeling the tensity of his ribcage and the slight swell where his slightly pudgy belly rounded outward, just small enough to hide under his clothes, just large enough for her to feel. As he chuckled and wrapped a hand over the two she had clasped above his tummy, April relaxed against her father's broad back, feeling small against him. Like she was six all over again and he could still lift her in the air and smile and tell her that everything would be okay.

 

“What's eating at you?” Kirby asked, giving her hands a slight tug to see if she would let him cook without a one hundred and thirty-some pound, five foot one teen attached to his torso. When she didn't budge, he merely patted her hands again and let her have a moment to soak up what strength she needed from him.

 

April wanted to tell him. The words were poised on the tip of her tongue, ready to spill; she and her father kept no secrets, not really. Well...she kept a thousand about how much she really ached after training, about what really happened on the nights she came home through her window instead of the door, about how she felt trapped and stifled sometimes when she was with him, how she felt betrayed that he couldn't bring himself to tell her what really happened to her mother. Little things. Huge things. But things like this she didn't keep.

 

If Mikey, or Leo or Donnie gave her secrets to keep (non-mission related secrets), secrets about their hearts, she didn't always know how to process it, and trusting her father to keep her secrets, she told him. Kirby had never batted an eye, just listened, usually letting her reason out on her own whatever it was about what she had heard that bugged her. He was a steel-trap, listening but never repeating. On occasion, April wondered if it was because he forgot the things she told him, as he was starting to do with where he put the keys or when he would write down a grocery list but forget to take it with him and would end up calling her to ask what he had forgotten.

 

But those were Leo, Mikey and Donnie's secrets. While Leo had taken a while to trust her, Donnie and Mikey had given her their secrets immediately, wholeheartedly, trusting her to manage them well, and while on occasion she felt a pang of guilt that her father knew their secrets as well, she had never spoken to anyone else about them. Not even to the other turtles, not even if they asked in worry about something related to the secrets she had been entrusted with. Not even Master Splinter.

 

But this was different. Raphael had never trusted her like this before; not even at the farmhouse when he was broken but solid, sitting across from her on his stool watching over his brother as she read to her comatose friend (and perhaps her painfully awake one as well). Not even when she stole moments with him like that to keep herself from falling apart. Not when she told him as much, as casually as possible so as to not make him uncomfortable. Not when his brief, gentle squeeze on her shoulder had helped her to be brave enough to cry, finally. The trust she gave him had never been returned

 

She had felt so frazzled, and confused while, despite his short temper and sharp words and shaken looks when ever his eyes landed on Leo, Raphael had been unusually grounded. She couldn't say that he took charge; ultimately that had fallen to her. Donnie tried, but faltered quickly once his choices were questioned by both Casey and Mikey, and Casey lamely attempted to make some sort of order in the house but quit after an hour in favor of getting away from the somber atmosphere and forgetting everything by working on something that involved his hands and emptied his mind. Which sadly meant that he ended up sharing a lot of space and time with Donnie. Which meant that whenever she walked within speaking distance from them, they began to argue and bicker loudly, acting like the idiot teenagers she had thought them better than.

 

At least until Raphael would peel himself from Leonardo's side long enough to silence them with little but his furious glares. Once, a fight between Donnie and Casey got bad enough that the two broke into a brawl in the living room; Raphael had appeared out of what seemed like nowhere, startling the furious April and depressed Mikey as he grabbed his brother and his best friend and disappeared into the night. April and Mikey never found out what happened out there, but both of the quarreling boys came back looking angry, dirty and subdued; Raphael crept back in quietly, vanishing like the ninja he was to the bathroom upstairs.

 

While it didn't stop the fights, it never got that bad again; April had been surprised to see that once Casey reached a point where he looked like he couldn't take it anymore, he'd shove Donnie, mutter something about a rain check and storm away. Donnie...never really seemed like he would reach his breaking point. April couldn't figure the genius turtle out, not for the life of her. One moment, he was sharing with her, looking open and comprehensive, understanding and kind, and the next, he was a maze, his eyes distant with calculations and factual thoughts and things that April could grasp at, but couldn't really follow. He was warm, inviting, almost too friendly, and then he was stone, a cave, cold and unreachable. It made her wonder where she truly stood with her best friend – did she even rank as his best friend in that complex mind of his?

 

At least with Raphael, she knew where she stood. Painfully so, just like at the farmhouse, only now he had opened up more, let her see more, let her see why she could never give back the stability that he had given her, the relief his presence had brought her. He couldn't see past what was on her surface, and it suddenly felt strange – all her life, her father and her aunts had trained her that she shouldn't let anyone stop her from doing anything she wanted because of what people saw when they looked at her, when they saw she was a girl. As her aunt Robyn had said, while patting her own full chest in the privacy of the empty hallway at Grandma O'Neil's, “Don't let them think you're less because they see a few girl parts on you.” April had been prepared for people to judge her, make assumptions about her and never truly be able to see her simply because she was very obviously a girl. She had been prepared for that.

 

But never had she prepared for not being seen because she was _human._ Something like pain squeezed her chest and she was surprised to feel tears welling in her eyes and seeping into her father's T-shirt. Kirby paused, halfway through dishing up. She took too long to answer. She would have to say something to reassure him.

 

“Are you-?”

 

“I'm fine, Dad...just tired,” she mumbled against his shirt, squeezing a bit before letting go of him and picking up the bowl of soup he had made, head turned away so that he couldn't see the lingering moisture in her eyes. She didn't tell him; instead she clutched Raphael's painful revelation about the way he viewed the world – viewed her – to herself and kept it safe inside of her. Because somehow it felt like a betrayal to him to speak of it to anyone, like she would have considered herself betrayed had Raphael told anyone about her tears in his presence, even Master Splinter.

 

Despite the fact that it hurt, deeply, strongly, April felt a measure of...something. Pride maybe, that he had told her finally, when he could have easily kept it all to himself. But it wasn't quite pride, and he hadn't really told her, had he? Simply insinuated, and nodded tersely when she told him she wouldn't push anymore. Whatever dull sense of triumph wore off, and she realized that she knew less about Raphael now than she had before.

 

After setting down the bowl, April turned and found herself facing her father's inquisitive gaze as he reached out, ready to touch her shoulder.

 

“April, what's wrong?” he asked, but she almost didn't hear him.

 

Fear attached her from all sides, her eyes locked on her father's hand as it neared her. Fear collapsed in on her, panic and vague impressions of thoughts that had no form. Her heart pounded against her ribs as if it had claustrophobia and her feet felt numb as spiking, lancing panic danced in her stomach. Everything within her drained down to the singular fact that she didn't want her father to touch her, didn't want his hands near her. For a moment, she wondered where on earth this was all coming from.

 

But then his hand reached her, squeezed her shoulder and April felt reality come crashing back in on her. Calm pressed in on her as she met Kirby's eyes. The fear left her, but her heart raced from its touch, her knuckles ached for no good reason, and she was confused as to it all.

 

April smiled gently, opening her mouth to reassure him again that she was fine, but what came out weren't her own words – indeed, she wasn't even sure she had spoken them out loud.

 

“ _I was just curious –”_

 

It sounded so broken, so guilty, so _ashamed._ And suddenly the fear was back.

 

 _I'm safe,_ she told herself as Kirby frowned in worry, _So why am I scared?_ Tremors traveled up her arms, settled into her chest, made her feel like when she was little, sitting on top of a washing machine and giggling at the vibrations, only now those vibrations are coming from her and they _hurt,_ and her heart was trying to escape. She wanted to run, as fear clamped down on her throat and confusion ran through her mind as she realized this fear was not her own. She was not afraid, but she was experiencing it all the same.

 

Somehow that made it scarier.

 

She couldn't stop and suddenly she was staring, not at her father, but at Master Splinter, whose hands are on her shoulders and all she can think of is how she doesn't want his hands on her. She hates those hands.

 

“Where are you, Raphael?” Master Splinter asks, his voice echoing across everything, painting everything in tones of his voice, but she just wants to run. She's scared of him. Scared to death. Scared to the point that she hates him.

 

 _I haven't moved,_ a thought, not her own, echoes across her mind in response to Master Splinter's question before she slips away, left standing in front of her own father again, who remained unaware of the strange thing happening right before his eyes.

 

“April,-”

 

“I think I'll skip dinner,” she squeezed out, shuddering from the remnants of the panic that had gripped her as she stood still. It clawed at her insides, tugged at her even though it was gone, and exhaustion seeped in to replace it. “I don't feel all that great.”

 

Kirby somehow managed to combine a look of worry and relief effortlessly, nodding at her as he helped her to her room. Unnecessary, but April appreciated it nonetheless. As soon as the door closed behind him, she sat on her bed and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Strange that her face seemed so calm, so relaxed with her insides crawling and her heart pounding wildly.

 

April let her eyes travel away from her reflection, startled when at first she thought she saw someone on her bed, but a quick glance revealed it was simply the wall of pillows she had set up to separate herself and Raphael when he stayed over last night. Which she then rolled over. She probably should have been more embarrassed than she was, but as she thought of it, an awkward laugh escaped her, easing the fear a little.

 

She suddenly thought of Rockwell, back when they didn't know that he was Rockwell; she could remember watching Donnie fight the chimp-man with a mixture of pained sympathy, worry, and curiosity. And when he grabbed her, screeching and hooting, she could remember how tiny and helpless she felt in his huge hands. Like he could crush her without second thought. But he didn't, and she noticed and in noticing he seemed to pause, enough that she could see his fear, sensed – in a way that she had thought other people could as well but were just too stubborn to pay attention to – that he wasn't going to hurt her.

 

At the time, when Master Splinter had taken notice of her ability to read people, she hadn't thought much but to be proud of it. She was glad she was different, glad she had something to equalize herself amongst the powerful, smart and skilled turtles. And once the shock of being part mutant wore off – once she realized that it didn't change who she really was, just like the fact that the turtles were _turtles_ didn't make them any less than any other person she had ever met – she had, in quiet moments, allowed herself to be proud of it again. April had accumulated the best of both species; the Kraang's incredible abilities that probably came directly from the fact that they were mostly _brain,_ and humanity's kindness, compassion, and, well, _humanity_.

 

Now, though, as she stood slowly and began to pace her room, she was wondering again if it was such a great thing. If this fear, overwhelming fear she had experienced wasn't her own, then it must have been that she was connecting with someone again, connecting the way she had connected with the Chimera. Only this time it wasn't triggered by Donnie messing around with her mind. April shuddered, remembering what it was like, feeling its hunger, feeling its frustration, seeing through its eyes.

 

Her eyes widened suddenly. Seeing through its eyes! April had seen Master Splinter for a moment, seen him reaching for her, felt such fear at the sight of him...She shuddered again and felt guilty to feel like that toward Master Splinter, who had given her such comfort and stability while her father was in the Kraang's clutches.

 

“Where are you, _Raphael_?” she repeated his words to herself, and for a moment, felt satisfied that she had figured out who she had connected to. But then April frowned, confused. If it was Raphael she had connected to or reached out to or touched telepathically or whatever the correct term was, why was he so afraid? April had seen Raphael afraid more than once; he wasn't incapable of the emotion like he was of goofiness and she knew it. What was jarring was the sheer intensity of it, and who it was directed at.

 

The teenager flopped backwards on to her bed, frowning at her ceiling. Perhaps the better question (maybe the more easily answered) was…

 

Why had she connected to Raphael in the first place?

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading it, and hopefully I'm not as horribly confusing as I fear I am. if I am, I apologize again. XD


End file.
